2/14/13

Vintage Reads #45: More Sleazy Paperbacks

"A Human Cauldron of emotions - torn, twisted, abused...."

Sometimes the backs of these old sleazy paperbacks are just as good as the front. In Love-Jungle Tigress, the paperback writers make TV land look like a never-ending orgy of violent debauchery. This book was written in the early sixties - so what television shows are they talking about exactly? The Beverly Hillbillies? My Three Sons? As much as it disturbs me to think of sodomy and hate fueled abuse going on behind the scenes in My Favorite Martian or Father Knows Best, inquiring minds want to know.

When Eve gets into that "Laotian Jungle Mood" there's simply no stopping this girl. One minute she's teaching "kooky sex tricks" then she's making like C. Thomas Howell in Soul Man and dying herself brown to pose as a native.

This is truly a lousy back cover. It's simply an excerpt - not a summary or anything. Even worse, there's nothing in the text (or the cover for that matter) about a beach. It's got the "sex" part covered sure enough; I'm just a little skeptical whether the beach ever makes an appearance.

Of course, what were we expecting? Acclaims from the New York Times on the back cover? Perhaps a paragraph of praise from Gore Vidal and J.D. Salinger? No, this type of book was no frills. Just S-E-X; anything else just got in the way. Here's a bunch more trashy paperbacks at their most bare (pun intended).

Click the back covers to read full sized - but don't say you haven't been warned.

6 comments:

I love the photography and cover art.I know the photographs are just stock shots, but this was a time when you still had to know what you were doing when you took pictures. Not the iPhone stuff you see on the web today.

I am also curious about he art work. Does the painter get a copy of the book, or just the title? OR does he do the cover and then the stock writer fills in a story?

This John Slater chap seems to be quite knowledgeable about the hidden nature of the Nazi regime. Wonder what would happen if I told my students to name drop him in their essays for their history final exams.

For many years I was in a popular twelve-step program calculated to deal with substance abuse. I was a high-bottom, high-functioning member so as part of my "service" in the program I would sponsor low-bottom guys and sort of be their friend if i could. Anyway, I was helping one of these fellows move his possessions out of his mother's garden shed where they had been stored when he was in prison.

He was now a sober member of the group, had gotten a job, was on probation and had found an apartment. He was also a pretty scaring-looking, touchy guy who had more than several chips on his shoulder. He struggled with very poor impulse control and thought I was a good guy; but just a little snobby. But I was his sponsor, and he was actually rather eager to change his life so he became a member in good standing of my group of sober friends. His sense of humor should have been recorded for posterity.

But anyway, I and a couple of other guys were helping him move. I picked up a box and looked inside. It was filled with books and ALL of them were just like the ones above except for the ones that were out and out porno. There was one, I kid you not, entitled, "Naughty Nurses on a Pussy Picnic." He saw me looking at these books and he said, "Hey man. I done read all them. You like to read? I'll sell em to ya $1 apiece."

The first thing out of my mouth was, "nah."

The next thing out of his mouth was, "I know your ass likes to read. What's a matter with them?"

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